


With the Handcuffs, in the office...

by LeafZelindor



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Gift Fic, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, dubious use of handcuffs, greg is a bit bossy, mycroft likes it, mycroft's desk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 04:24:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1065734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeafZelindor/pseuds/LeafZelindor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft get's a surprise guest in his office. That guest has handcuffs.... Mystrade porn without a plot. Just for your viewing enjoyment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With the Handcuffs, in the office...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MystradeSexyTimes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MystradeSexyTimes/gifts).



> Mystradesexytimes was having a bad day. I wrote porn. All grammar mistakes are my own. (There also isn't enough mystrade porn in the world)

When Anthea had told him he had a guest in his office. Mycroft admitted to himself he hadn't been expecting to see Gregory Lestrade leaning on his desk disheveled and twirling his police cuffs almost lazily. There was a small cut on his cheek, it had created a small trail of blood down the skin. Mycroft could tell he'd come directly there from a case.

“Gregory.” Mycroft said slowly. Generally they did not come to each other's work place. Only when Mycroft had to come in over something Sherlock had done, and never before had Lestrade come to him. It was an unspoken agreement, that when they were together it wasn't about work. To be fair, work had interrupted their last two attempts at a date.

“Mycroft.” Greg easily let the cuffs fall still, eyes trailing a moment. “Anthea says you have no pressing meetings for the afternoon...”

“Paperwo....” Mycroft started to say, Greg was across the room in three long strides and had pushed him up against the door. Mouths meeting in a clash of lips and teeth. Mycroft was actually startled. He let himself kiss back though. This was not the sort of kiss Greg usually pressed on him. All, three times they'd made it to the end of a date. Those had been gentle and exploring, this was something else. That something that made Mycroft almost shiver. Hands slid down his arms. Mycroft shifted to lift his arms with all intention of sliding a hand into short cropped grey hair. He was stopped though, the wandering hands encircled his wrists and pushed them against the wall. He could feel the handcuffs against one wrist. There was a click as cool metal was latched around skin.

Greg broke the kiss to nip his jaw. “I need you.” He rumbled lowly. Mycroft's knees almost buckled.

“Yes.” He breathed, He shifted against the door. “Lock it...”

Greg let go of his wrist to turn the lock. His mouth back on Mycroft's in moments. Mycroft allowed the kiss to deepen. He was enjoying the thrill of Greg's tongue caressing his, the way he could follow the moments with his own. He did not bother to consider when the last time he'd allowed himself such a pleasure. A leg coaxed it's way between his now, thigh pressing against the rapid hardening of his prick. A moan escaped him.

“I'm going to undo you.” Greg promised as he broke their kiss again. Mycroft made a noise of pleasure, shifting towards him to lick at the cut on his cheek. A bold move that had him blushing. Greg's eyes half closed though, he was pleased. “Desk.”

Mycroft wasn't one for following orders, usually he gave them. Greg's tone though, was delicious. He wanted to do as told. He let the other man pull him by the one attached cuff. He started to reach up to tug at his own tie, Greg's long before lost. His hand was swatted down. “Did I say to do that?” Mycroft groaned softly at the lowly spoken statement but then shook his head. He dared to look at his boyfriend. Greg was smirking just a bit. He motioned for Mycroft to stop. “The tie stays..” He mused, making Mycroft come to a stop in front of the desk. His hands slid to pull off Mycroft's suit jacket. The fabric fell to the ground with a soft noise. Greg kissed him to keep him from protesting. He had said disheveled. Mycroft found that the kiss was a satisfactory way to be distracted, especially once the questing hands moved to his waistcoat. Greg broke the kiss the moment that fabric had been parted and pulled off and with a firm grasp turned him around, the handcuff which had not be latched was fastened onto his other wrist.

Mycroft was startled. Oh he was no stranger to odd things. He'd had a fellow in University that liked feet a bit much. However, he had not expected this from Greg. He was not surprised though when an arm reached past him, pushed several items to the side of his desk and his chest met the wood firmly. A hand slid down to pull his shirt from his trousers. “Do you ever think of this Mycroft?” Greg was leaning over him, voice low in his ear. “Do you ever think of being fucked over your desk? Unable to do a bloody thing to stop it?”

Mycroft shifted. He hadn't before, but he certainly was thinking about it now. A whimper left his throat. “Greg...” His composure was slipping. His companion knew it. A soft throaty chuckle met his ear, the free hand that had pulled his shift out was now sliding around his hip to unfasten his belt.

“You are now aren't you. Maybe I should make you suck me first... Yeah?” Greg was teasing him now, teeth nipped his ear. The man pulled away. Mycroft wanted to turn and look, he could hear fabric moving behind him, then a soft squeak of leather as Greg settled in one of the guest chairs.

“Come here Mycroft. Kneel.” His voice was low, the last word clipped a bit. Mycroft groaned and straightened himself up, turning to look at the Detective Inspector. His trousers were unfastened and partway pulled down, he was palming himself lazily. Eyes watching Mycroft's every move. It was hard to not fall as he moved to kneel in front of Greg. He couldn't touch him, torture that it was. He grunted as his knees hit the floor a little harder than he'd wanted. Physically he pitched forward slightly and his nose hit the other man's thigh. Greg's hand moved to grasp his hair, lifting his head for him.

“Look at you. You want to be undone, don't you. You need it.” Greg purred. “Get me good and wet Mycroft. I'm going to fuck you over that desk yet.”

The implication that there wouldn't be any lubricant was a tease. It was a thrilling one. Mycroft shifted as soon as his head was released, leaning in to lick the heated skin. To breath in the smell of Gregory, of his arousal. Oh it had been far to long. He drug his tongue slowly up the skin, tracing a vein. Greg's hand fell away, if he had dared to look he knew he'd see dark desire in those lovely eyes. It was a little harder without his hands to do this than he remembered. Greg's cock rubbed against his cheek, pre-cum had smeared against his skin. He shivered and shifted himself until he could get his lips around the head. That earned him groan of pleasure. He sucked slowly, tasting, tongue flicking delicately over the skin. He could feel Gregory vibrate under him. The other man wanted to thrust, it was taking a good bit of will power for him not to. Mycroft took pity. He had a job to do. He took more in, sucking now. His tongue bathing warm skin further. He concentrated on the taste, the texture and making sure to get as much saliva as possible onto that delicious hot skin. 

A growl was all the warning he got before fingers were in his hair, pulling up. Mycroft shifted with them. A hand moving to grasp one arm to get him to his feet; he was turned and pushed onto the desk again. He grunted as he hit. The mahogany was cool under his heated cheek. He tried not to let himself drool a bit, having been pulled from mid motion. Hands on his trousers, yanking quickly. His pants were pulled with them to pool around his ankles. Greg's hands were on his arse, kneading.

“You are very good at that Mycroft.” Greg's voice hummed, it was a little ragged. He was thrilled to hear that though. There was an odd noise behind him and then he felt hands on him again. Fingers spreading this time. There was a chill then one slicked digit started to push in. No time for ceremony, not that Mycroft blamed him. He pushed back slightly which earned him a smack. Sharp, lightly stinging. Mycroft groaned against the desktop. The finger shifted deeper, rubbing inside him. He shuddered a little.

“You're such a slut.” Greg rumbled leaning down to bite his ear lightly. Mycroft responded by spreading his legs a little further. The finger was moving torturously slow, massaging in little circles, coaxing relaxation of the muscles. How could Greg stand it? He felt the man shift, Greg's prick hit the back of his thigh and he could feel the sudden coolness of saliva and pre-cum against his skin. A second finger pressed in with the first now. The initial burn as Greg began to stretch him was good. It was promising. He wanted more.

“Gregory please...” He breathed. His hip got pinched, but then a hand slid around and palmed him. Mycroft whimpered, his legs trembling at the touch.

“Patience.” He purred against Mycroft's ear, the questing fingers shifted and then were pushed deeper and Mycroft couldn't help jerking awkwardly as they pressed deep enough inside. The shot of pleasure that jolted up his spine was startling. Greg chuckled and pressed it again, making him squirm against the edge of the desk. The hand palming his cock gave a promising squeeze then pulled away. Mycroft whimpered, the fingers inside him pulled out as well. He could hear Greg applying some of the lubricant to himself. He shifted, wanting to look back.

“Don't move.” Greg barked. Mycroft froze easily, a ragged breath left him. Hands on his hips again, lifting slightly. Mycroft tried to adjust his position to help. It must have been what Greg wanted because one hand moved off his hip, the other still gripping firmly.

There it was, he could feel hot, slick, heavy against his entrance. “Please..”

“I know just what you want.” Greg leaned over him and pushed in at the same time. It stretched more than the fingers, it burned more. Oh but it felt so good. So good he could feel Greg filling him up. His hands were pressed between his back and Greg's stomach. He wanted to grab on. He couldn't. He couldn't get any purchase. Then Greg stilled. He could feel the pulsing inside him. It ached.

“Greg..” He whimpered. Greg chuckled lowly, pressed a kiss to the back of his neck and then shifted up and started to thrust. Slow at first, drawing it out. Making Mycroft whimper under him. He wanted to squirm, but from this position that meant bruised hips and he could possibly pinch himself. He didn't want to risk it. He was aching to be touched, aching for more. Greg gave it to him. His boyfriend's movements became sharper, deeper. He hit the prostate every few thrusts, making Mycroft gasp and twist slightly.

Mycroft was surprised that Greg didn't touch him though. He was leaking onto the desk. He was somewhat certain it was going to cause an interesting stain. Greg shifted suddenly, thrusting deep twice before Mycroft felt the sensation of his release. It was thrilling, and dirty and Mycroft still needed it. He whimpered in pleasure. He needed this, it felt good. He was startled as Greg pulled back and hauled him up. He was pushed down awkwardly into the guest chair. Trying not to crush his hands was quickly forgotten in favor of rocking up into an eager mouth. His hands actually gave him a little bit of leverage against Greg's motions. The man was sucking hard, fingers moving to tease his tender entrance, brush over his scrotum. Greg shifted and pulled him to the edge of the chair, taking him deep, he pushed two fingers in not coaxing, but sharply probing. That was all it took. Mycroft wanted to bite back the cry that left him, he jerked and went tense as he came. Greg swallowed around him. What he didn't manage to swallow he lapped at gently to clean up before, moving to help him sit up.

His wrists were freed and Mycroft grabbed onto Greg's face, pulling him up and kissing him hard. For a long moment they were pressed together like this. Mycroft in the chair, Greg kneeling between his legs. Then slowly the kiss broke. Mycroft sagged back, blinking slowly at their odd state of half undress.

“Well... That was...” Greg chuckled and shushed him with a gentle kiss. The Detective Inspector pulled back slowly and fixed his clothing now. Moving to gather up the discarded items of Mycroft's own wardrobe.

“You fucked me with my shirt still on...” Mycroft blinked, shifting to look at the rumpled fabric. “And my tie...”

“Next time I'm using the tie for something more interesting.” Greg chuckled a bit. He didn't point out that the majority of his own clothing had stayed on. 

“Oh?” Mycroft was curious now. Greg chuckled and helped him up, redressing him slowly, with kisses pressed to places which were red, promising bruises.

“You'll find out. Now. mm I think you're presentable.” Greg chuckled and smoothed fingers through Mycroft's hair after he buttoned the last button on the waistcoat.

“My desk is a mess.” Mycroft nosed him briefly then glanced at it. There was in fact a rather telling smudge marking the surface.

“If you get rid of that desk I will deny you sex for at least two months.” Greg growled in his hear. Mycroft shivered and then nodded obediantly.

“As you wish.” He murmured. Besides, it could be rather delightful knowing that mark was there, covered in papers and files. Greg kissed him one last time, and looking no more rumpled that before slipped out of the office. Mycroft moved to sit down at his desk. Blinking a moment or two. Something silver gleamed in the guest chair and he smiled. The handcuffs. He'd have to give those back later...


End file.
